Gloves
by Franki09
Summary: Norma finally goes straight to the Once-ler about how much she detests his long, green gloves. Norma-ler one-shot, angsty.


It started with a knock.

It almost always does.

Tecnically, it wasn't the start. It was a single step in a long, long line of many, each forming the slow, subtle crumbling of the Once-ler. It could barely be said that it existed at all; after all, it was an abstract concept, and a subtle one at that. So subtle in fact, it was barely noticeable, and unless one knew the Once-ler very, _very _well, one wouldn't have even realized it was there at all. Which is why no-one did.

Everybody thinks the Once-ler was cold-hearted and careless all the way up to the point the final tree was chopped. They are right. But there's more to it than that. Despite being the richest, and greediest, man alive, the Once-ler still had a sliver of a conscience left. He only realized this of course after his business had reached it's very peak, and couldn't possibly go any higher, and when things had settled down to a steady routine, many events led to him slowly deteriorating, until he finally cracked when the last of the Truffula trees fell.

In all aspects, the deteriorating was practically non-existent, and one could simplify it a great deal and say the tree falling did it all, and nothing else had any impact on the Once-ler's conscience. It would still make sense, and in all honesty, wouldn't make much difference. But other events did have impacts, however tiny, and although they wore off after a while, (a short while,) they were still there.

The knock was one such event. At least, it led to one.

"Busy," was the one-word reply. The Once-ler had become so self-centered and unaware of other people's feelings, one word was all he needed. One word was all he _thought_ he needed, because when he was busy and didn't want to see people, he didn't want to waste time using unnecessary words just for the sake of other people's feelings. At least that was the assumption. Whether he was actually busy or just antisocial was forever a mystery.

But the knock came again. _How irritating... what don't they understand about the word 'busy?'_

"I'm unavailable!" he called. They were wasting his time now.

There was the knock again. Three, clear raps. Getting louder.

"For the last time," he called. "You're wasting my time!"

Whoever it was didn't bother knocking again. They simply disobeyed him, and entered despite, taking a seat opposite his abnormally large chair. He wanted to tell them off and demand they leave, but he wasn't in the mood and couldn't be bothered to waste any more talking when he knew it would be fruitless. He looked up from under the green brim of his hat, and lowered his legs from the table, reinserting himself into a sitting position of a more proper manner. "May I help you?" he drawled lazily to his fiancée, Norma, sat across from him at his desk. The words were too practised and overused.

Norma leant forwards, her elbows on the table as she held her chin in her hands and stared at the man she once loved with mild curiosity and a hidden disdain. "We need to talk, Oncie."

He flinched at the nickname, having not heard it from her lips in so many months. Or maybe it was the way she said it. Lacking the joy and playfulness and love it once held. It was almost as if she were mocking him now.

Slowly, with thick, slurred, movements, he removed his green shades from the bridge of his nose, pushing the brim of his hat further up his forehead so he could look at her properly. He wasn't going to say anything any time soon, so he just waited until she talked. After she didn't, he noticed something about her. Something... different.

"Darling, why are you wearing those cheap things?" he scowled, gesturing with a gloved hand towards her garments. She caught his hand and held it over the desk, looking at him earnestly. Almost playfully, cheekily, like how she used to be. _Still _was, he told himself. She hadn't changed, had she?

"Do you no longer recognise me, Oncie, now I'm no longer plastered in expensive makeup and fur jackets?" she grimaced at the mention of _fur jackets, _with a contempt in her voice he only came to notice now.

"I spent a lot of money on those. I just-" he said, waiting for his wit and quick thinking to come to his aid, but the look in her eyes made him stumble over his words and trail off, unsure of what to say.

Norma scoffed. "Like how much they cost would matter to you, when you have all the money in the world."

Once-ler's patience was wearing thin. "Be quick. I have things to be getting on with," he said lamely.

"Oh really, _darling,_" she said the empty pet-name he called her with an irritating exaggeration. "You didn't look very busy when I came in."

_Still feisty, _he thought, before scolding himself for acting like he hadn't seen her in ages. "Without my permission," he bit back, but in his exhausted state of mind he knew she had practically already won the argument, if argument it was.

"I didn't need it," she said casually, taking his other gloved hand and lacing his long fingers with her own. "This is something we need to talk about."

"Go ahead, you have my full attention," he purred, although his lack of energy was evident in his voice.

Norma didn't speak for a few moments, and it didn't seem like she was going to. But he didn't say anything. He just watched in slight inquisitiveness as she ran her brown eyes over his hands, studying them like they were completely new to her, like she hadn't held them and felt them around her before. He rolled his eyes at her odd behaviour, sighing exasperatedly, but he couldn't bring himself to mean the annoyed actions. They were empty.

After what felt like years, she spoke. Softly, quietly, just a murmur so that he could barely hear her. "Take off the gloves, Once-ler."

At first he was confused. He stared at her with a bored expression like she was the strangest thing he had ever come across. She probably was, he thought with an inward sigh.

"What?" he inquired, scoffing slightly. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"

Norma raised an eyebrow, through a pair of round, wonky glasses instead of the top-quality contacts he had bought her. "Why on earth wouldn't you?"

He shot her a glare, before reluctantly taking his hands back and pulling the gloves from his fingers as they slid down his arm. Tossing them on the table, he rubbed his hands and straightened his suit sleeves, placing his bare hands back on the table. They were cold without the comforting warmth and security of his gloves.

A small gasp escaped Norma's lips as she stared at his bare hands like she had never seen such things before, like her eyes were playing tricks on her. Once-ler sighed, frustrated at her quaintness. Why was she acting like this? What gave her the right to speak to him like this? It befuddled him to no end.

Norma gently, delicately, reached out for his hands, curling her fingers softly round his own, with the cautiousness of one handling expensive china. She was acting like his hands would shatter any second. He flinched at her touch, the flesh of his fingers not used to feeling anything without the protective covering of his gloves. The feel of her skin against his own was strange, foreign, but eventually he relaxed, the slow movement of her thumb rubbing his hands soothing.

He looked up at her, seeing her in a new light and with no idea why. Part of him said, _You've never seen her acting this plain weird before, that's what, _but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. That definitely wasn't it.

"What happened to you, Once-ler?" she asked softly, her gaze still fixed on his hands. Her head was cocked to one side, the expression etched onto her features somewhat peaceful and mildly sceptical, with a hint of sadness hidden behind the panes of glass framing her eyes.

Once-ler chuckled nervously under his breath, eyeing her dangerously. "What crazy thoughts could make you ask that?" he asked, hints of annoyance in his voice. "Nothing's happened to me."

Norma scoffed, but it was more sadness than anything else. Unwanted uneasiness wormed it's way into Once-ler's mind. He scolded it away before it could do anything.

"You say that," she said, "but it's obvious you don't believe it."

He exhaled deeply. How could she see through him like this? It was like he was transparent and she could see right through him, as a clear as through a pane of glass. He shuddered and closed his eyes for a few moments. _He wished she'd just go away..._

"Look at you," she continued after he remained unspoken. "Your skin is as white as a sheet. You never leave your office. Your curtains are always drawn, but it's so dark outside it wouldn't make any difference. You never settle for what you've got. You're never happy with what you have. You just have to keep biggering and biggering and buying and upgrading. Why can't you just be grateful for what you already have instead of asking for more?"

"I'm doing what's best for my family," he replied, but his voice was shaky. "I'm buying what's best for us so we can live in a comfortable lifestyle."

Norma looked at him pointedly, but when she spoke she acted like she hadn't heard his statement at all. "You lock yourself up here, hiding yourself away under layers of the finest, most expensive clothing. Your gloves," she said with word with disgust, "hide the horrible things your hands have done."

"Why are we discussing my hands?"

The question flew over her head. "I used to love your hands," she said.

Once-ler wanted to rub his forehead and the sleep from his eyes, but he didn't dare pull back. He just sat there, leaning forwards in his chair, looking at her solemnly.

"They used to be so talented," she continued. "They could do a number of things."

He was too tired to even raise an eyebrow. "They could..." she paused, thinking. "They could make the most delicious pancakes anyone has ever tasted. Soft, gooey, delicious. They could toss them up into the air and catch them in the frying pan as gracefully and easily as breathing."

Once-ler scoffed. "Making pancakes. What a useless skill."

"When you can just hire someone else to make them for you," she corrected him. "But then they're not the same. They're not yours."

He rolled his eyes, listening as she persisted in her silly, pointless chattering. "They could also play guitar. Really, really well."

"Still do," he muttered.

"Really? When was the last time you plucked the strings of that ridiculous, expensive, snazzy twelve-string?"

_She has a point, _part of him said. He just huffed and ignored it.

"They could play guitar very well indeed. Fast and quick-fingered, with expert strumming and plucking, creating the jolliest, rhythmical tunes anyone's ever heard."

Once-ler's breath was caught in his throat now. He swallowed it down, with a deep inhale.

"They were also hard-working, although that was more of their owner's part. They were always busy, and had perfect aim. They could slice a tree down with a single, graceful swing, although now they hire machines to do it for them."

"I thought you didn't like the chopping down of the trees," he challenged, glad she had offered something for him to retort to.

"Not when they're being chopped down at the rate of over five hundred a day," she snapped back. "At least you used to do it yourself. The only reason you're doing it now is for money. That's all you care about anymore."

Once-ler sighed in defeat. "Fine then. Tell me what else my hands could do."

He sounded bored, but Norma could tell he wasn't. She sat up straight and shuffled forwards to the edge of her seat so she could continue holding onto his hands. Despite the message she was trying to get through to him, she had to admit she enjoyed the feel of his bare fingers entwined with her own.

"They could draw the most beautiful drawings and designs," she murmured wistfully. "Even though this particular skill was mostly used for the diagrams of designs and ideas, they were still wonderful to look at. Sketchy, and artistic, with strong, confident strokes of pencil and paintbrush," she reflected sadly. "And then they were incredibly skilled at building and creating things. Translating thought to reality was one of their strong-points. One day, they knitted a fabulous creation that changed the course of mankind forever. Such an amazing thing, such a helpful thing, such a beautiful thing was created by your hands that day."

He smiled at the thought of his beloved Thneed, the very thing that had brought him this far. Her compliments made him feel warm inside, but the warmth was quickly put out when he realized the reason behind her words. She wasn't here to compliment him. She was here to make a point.

"They could knit brilliant things. Quick and nimble and with expertise. Shame that it stopped swiftly when the machines were created," she shrugged, as if it didn't mean as much to her as he could tell it did.

They were both silent for a few moments. It seemed like she had finished her speech, and yet he didn't know what to say. Neither of them did. They just looked at each other. Without emotion, but neither of them looked away. They couldn't. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the Once-ler, and the ticking of the large, expensive clock on the wall. The air felt thick and heavy. Hours could have passed.

Eventually, when Norma did speak, her voice was shaky and cracked a couple of times. "Now-" she started, the words getting caught in her throat. Once-ler's grip on her hands tightened. "N-now, they spend their time counting money."

It took him a moment to realize she was still talking about his hands. His mouth hung slightly open as he stared at her silently, unable to look away.

"They're clad in long, long gloves the richest of greens, the same colour as the dollar notes they are so often seen holding," Norma said. She took a trembling breath. "Covering up the dirty deeds your hands have done. All the shady deals they made, and pollution caused at the click of their fingers."

It was only now that he noticed her eyes were wet, water gathering at the tips of her lashes. "And-" she continued, a warble detected in her voice, which was noticeably higher than usual. "And now I don't think I'll ever see those hands again, let alone the wonderful things they could do and create."

What was she talking about? She was acting like she'd never see him again! Of course she'd see his hands again! She was being so melodramatic about it.

Once-ler narrowed his eyes at her. "Norma, please, stop being so melodra-"

"Because I'm leaving," she stated simply, cutting him off. She felt his fingers tighten around her own, and sobbed for the first time as she pulled her hands away, knowing that that was the last time she'd ever feel his hands again. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him, not wanting to see the hurt and betrayal on his face. Or worse – if he didn't look hurt or betrayed. If he didn't care.

_She was leaving, _was the only thought going through the Once-ler's mind. _She was _leaving. _Actually _leaving.

"Norma, don't-" he began, before he choked on his own words.

"And I'm not coming back," she found the courage to look at him, and sobbed at the sad, disbelieving look on his face. "It's not good for me here. The smog in the sky is bad for my lungs, and- and-" she couldn't bring herself to admit that he was the reason she was leaving. She swallowed. "I don't want to be with you anymore. Not after what you've become."

Once-ler wanted to hold her, wipe the tears from her face, beg her to stay, but he couldn't move. He felt glued to his chair.

"Because- because you don't love me anymore," she said boldly, beginning to stand up. He desperately wanted to stand up as well and tell her that he did love her, that he honestly did, but this new bout of emotions was confusing and he hadn't felt this way in a long, long time. What if she was right? He didn't want to lie to her.

"And you can keep this," she said, pulling off the expensive diamond ring from her finger with careless force and tossing it onto the desk in front of him. "And all my clothes and makeup. Because I don't need your money. And neither do you."

He might have snarled at her, _Of course you do, I've worked long and hard for that money and you ought to be grateful for all I've done for you, _but he didn't. Although he didn't know it, a tiny, tiny part of him knew it wasn't true.

"So I'm leaving with my parents," she continued, the only trace she had ever been crying the tear-stains on her cheeks. "And we're going to try and find somewhere where there's no smog in the sky, or schlop in the rivers. I wish you all the happiness in the world," she looked at him sadly, "But I have a feeling that if you carry on like this you'll never be happy."

Tears were rolling slowly down the Once-ler's face now, as he rested his jaw in glove-less hands and stared pitifully at her, his mouth slightly agape. Norma straightened, folding her hands in front of her and making swiftly for the door, her gaze locked on the floor. She knew he didn't turn to watch her leave. Just before shutting the door behind her, she said quietly, "Goodbye, Once-ler," but he made no move to say he'd heard her.

Then the door had closed with a sharp slam that echoed around his big, empty office, and she was gone.

* * *

The Once-ler got over it, of course. In a matter of days he was working and smirking and planning extensions and brand new, bigger, better designs for his factory, concentrating on the biggering and money. He had all the money in the world, so why should he care about someone who never loved him? At least, that was what he told himself. He knew it wasn't the case.

Because, after all, he only truly realized the extent of his actions when the final tree fell, and the Lorax, his last and only friend, had lifted himself away. All events before, albeit had helped in his slight deterioration, had made impacts so miniscule they were barely worth mentioning, because at the end of the day, the tree did it all. No matter what happened before, although they did something, it was the tree that made the final blow.

And even though he hadn't worn his gloves or left his office at all the following days after this such event, he got over it quickly, not noticing the small differences in himself or the way he saw the world. More events led to him gradually growing worse, but neither he nor anyone else noticed a thing. Because no-one knew him anymore, not even the Lorax, and Norma had been long gone.

So the Once-ler was miserable after she had left. He _thought _he was incredibly happy shortly after.

But only when the sickening _crunch _of the last tree falling filled the valley did he fully realize his actions, and what all the events had been trying to tell him. And true to Norma's prediction, he didn't feel an ounce of happiness for the next sixty years, as he sat in regret and self-loathing in his Lerkim, beneath the smog filled sky. His only comforts were the diamond ring and the last of the Truffula seeds, which he had never been brave enough to plant.

However, despite what they both thought, Once-ler did find happiness eventually, after Norma's grandson Ted managed to change the ways of the people of Thneedville, and brought the Truffulas out of extinction. When Once-ler heard the joyous singing of the townspeople that day, he had felt the first shred of happiness in sixty years.

And when Norma, now short, plump and grey had laid sight on his bare hands, now wrinkled and gnarled, a small smile had crept onto her lips as she and the Once-ler had finally met again, all those years later. She knew he was a changed man.

Once-ler threw away his gloves after the Lorax came back. Because he had his friend back, and Norma, and the Truffula trees he had once abandoned. Because he was happy again.


End file.
